“I am Carlotta Baryshnova, nanny to the Lady Honoria Bruebeck, your aunt, and Lady Elizabeth Bruebeck, your mother. When she became Princess Elizabeth of Cordina I came with her to be nanny to her children. I have diapered you, bandaged your knees and blown your nose. When you marry, I will do the same for your children.”

“I see.” Because the woman seemed more annoyed than upset, Brie smiled again. It occurred to her she had yet to see herself smile. She’d have to go back to the mirror again. “And was I a good child?”

“Hmph.” The sound could have meant anything, but Brie caught a tiny hint of pleasure in it. “Sometimes worse, sometimes better than your brothers. And they were always a trial.” Coming closer, she peered down at Brie with the intensity of the nearsighted. “Not sleeping well,” she said briskly. “No wonder. Tonight I’ll bring you hot milk.”

Brie angled her head. “Do I like it?”

“No. But you’ll drink it. Now I’ll run your bath. Too much excitement and too many doctors, that’s what’s wrong with you. I told that silly Bernadette I would see to your needs this evening. What have you done to your hands?” she demanded abruptly, and snatched one up. She began mumbling over it like an old hen over a backward chick. “Only a week away and you ruin your nails. Worse than a kitchen maid’s. Chipped and broken, and with all the money you spend on manicures.”

Brie sat still while Nanny fussed and complained. There was something, something in the feel of that dry, warm hand and scolding voice. Even as she tried to hold it, it faded. “I have manicures often?”

“Once a week.” Nanny sniffed, but continued to grip Brie’s fingers.

“It appears I need another one.”

“You can have that stiff-lipped secretary of yours make an appointment. Your hair, too,” Nanny said, scowling at it. “A fine thing for a princess to run around with chipped nails and flyaway hair. Fine thing,” she continued, as she walked into an adjoining room. “Fine thing, indeed.”

Brie rose and stripped. She felt no invasion of privacy at having the woman fuss and hover around during her bath. Even as she drew off her hose, the woman was there, bundling her into a short silk robe.

“Pin up your hair,” Nanny said grumpily. “We’ll do what we can with it after your bath.” When she saw Brie’s hesitation, she went to the dresser herself and opened a small enameled box. Hairpins were jumbled inside. “Here now.” And her voice was more gentle. “Your hair is thick like your mother’s. You need a lot of pins.” She was nudging her along, clucking, into the room where water ran. Stopping a moment, Brie just looked.

There was a skylight, strategically placed so that the sun or rain or moonlight would be visible while looking up from the tub. The floor and walls were all tiled in white with flowering plants hanging everywhere in a room already steamy. Even with them, the tub dominated the room with its splash of rich, deep green. Its clover shape would accommodate three, she mused, and wondered if it ever had. Bemused, she watched the water pour out of a wide glistening faucet that turned it into a miniature waterfall.